Only if for a night
by SniperCT
Summary: Elizabeth has seen many cities and men and lighthouses, and has hunted one man a thousand times under a thousand skies. She finds him again in this dark city, amidst the siren call of alien whales. Once she ends him she'll hunt the last Comstock and finally, finally rest. But before then, maybe, Elizabeth will allow herself just a small taste of something good.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't every day an Empress turned twenty, and even though Emily had been disinclined to do anything _special_ for it, Corvo had managed to convince her it would serve the best interests of the Empire to have something to celebrate.

He stood alone, leaning against one pillar in the grand ballroom, watching Emily interact with nobles and courtiers. One in particular seemed to have caught her eye. Corvo remembered their face; Wyman. They had a particularly strong jawline, Corvo thought, and he raised an eyebrow when Emily's hand brushed theirs.

He'd have to run a check on them. Nobleperson or not, that was the Empress _and_ his daughter.

Murmurs brought his attention to the stage as one of the performers walked to the edge. Wearing a sparkling sapphire dress the same color as the eyes her smile didn't quite reach, the dark-haired beauty introduced herself as Elizabeth.

Corvo didn't know the song she sang. It was sad and bittersweet, matching the shadows on Elizabeth's face. For most people there was some hope to the words, in the melody, but the woman's powerful voice reverberated through Corvo, telling him that she'd given up that hope. Corvo could relate. Nine years ago, he'd struggled to find hope. Some days that darkness reared up again, threatening to swallow him up. Most days.

"She's gorgeous." Emily leaned against the pillar too, eyes on her father.

"Trying to set me up again?" He tore his gaze from the singer, turning his head towards Emily. "You do remember how well that went last time."

"Is it _really_ my fault he turned out to be married?"

He shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his mouth. "And the time before that?"

"I know she was weirdly fascinated with fire but she _seemed_ nice."

"_She torched my bed._"

"Details."

"With me _still in it_."

Emily shrugged, not bothering to disguise her grin. "I thought you liked excitement." She jerked her chin towards Elizabeth. "It can't hurt to talk to her."

"Is this a daughter suggestion or an Empress suggestion," Corvo asked, eyes following the sway of Elizabeth's hips as she left the stage.

"A little of both," Emily replied. Then she gave him a not-so-gentle shove, because _apparently_ she thought he needed help finding _companionship_.

"Don't think this won't distract me from you and Wyman," he said, even as his feet started to carry him across the floor.

He studied Elizabeth's movements and the way she carried herself as she plucked a glass of wine from a tray. They way she looked around, studying the crowd; like she was looking for someone in particular.

It wasn't just admiration, though there was certainly quite a bit to admire. Corvo knew a killer when he saw one, but whether or not she was a threat was yet to be determined. And if she was a threat to Emily, that would be the last song she sang.

Elizabeth sighed, no longer scanning the crowd. She hadn't found what she was looking for, then. Or she'd noticed Corvo approaching and changed her behavior accordingly. He stopped a respectful distance away and dipped his head towards her. "Beautiful performance, Miss. I don't think I've ever heard of that song."

She turned to him, faux smile still fastened in place, and tired eyes studied his face. "Thank you. I heard it …" Her face twisted into puzzlement, "A few years ago, I think."

"It's bittersweet."

"You think so?" She tilted her head, assessing him. Like she hadn't expected that answer.

"Yes. You sing it like you're longing for something just out of reach." Corvo knew he'd hit the mark by the tightness of her full lips. He glanced towards the party and all the people. "Who are you looking for?"

Her eyes followed his gaze, then darted back to him. To the coat he wore, the pin on his collar. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she recovered quickly. Her voice sounded brittle. "_Not_ the Empress. I'm looking for a man who owes me a _debt_."

There was truth in her voice and her eyes. Corvo relaxed. Slightly. "He's not here, is he."

"No." Elizabeth's shoulders sagged, like she'd stopped caring about hiding the weight on them.

"Can't say I'm disappointed. Red is a bad color for birthdays."

There was no humor in the weary laugh that erupted from Elizabeth. She knocked back the rest of the wine and set it down on a passing tray. Then she looked at him as though she were still trying piece together the puzzle that was Corvo Attano. "I've heard a lot of stories about the Royal Protector since I've come to Dunwall. What's the truth and what's the exaggeration?"

"Call me Corvo," he said, and offered her his arm. He hadn't entirely dismissed her as a threat, but keeping her away from Emily had the upside of sating his curiosity. "Care for a dance?"

"I don't really feel like it right now."

"A walk then? Get away from all these people."

This time, she didn't hesitate in taking his arm.

Elizabeth had lost track of time. Not the time passing at the ball, but _time_. Her time. Her life and her years. How many years had it been since she'd followed Booker out of that tower? Since she'd drowned him and started her crusade to track down every version of Comstock that had branched off before she'd smothered her father in that river? He was supposed to be the first, and the last, and yet there'd been so many. Too many. It almost felt like a futile effort, these years.

Three years? Six? Eight? Was she twenty-five? Thirty? Somewhere in between? Or was she stuck at nineteen, all the years since spent not being a person but floating from timeline to timeline, spilling her father's blood a thousand times over?

She couldn't even say when the last time was that she'd made a choice for herself, instead of having one made for her. So she took Corvo's arm and walked with him, pretending to be somewhat normal. It felt nice.

The hallway was deserted and she glanced out the window, watching the beam from the Dunwall lighthouse spin around. _A lighthouse. A city. A man_. Three constants, in every world she came to.

She looked at Corvo, the lines on his face, and wondered at his story. What truth was there behind what people said of the man who'd saved the Empire? And did he _really_ eat rats?

"Am I truly that interesting?" He raised his eyebrow at her scrutiny and she still had enough shame to blush.

Elizabeth had learned how to flirt, to use men's assumptions and desires to get what she wanted, to help her get close enough to her targets to kill them. As she stroked a finger along Corvo's arm and noted that familiar spark of desire in his eyes, she wondered, exactly, what it was she wanted from him. Help in finding this Comstock? Or simply companionship, something to fill the cavernous loneliness that was her heart.

She'd once been such a romantic. Her head had been filled with so many ideals and wishes, all fueled by her vast library and the windows she could open into other worlds.

Her thoughts were not strictly _romantic_ as she took in Corvo's dark features, but most of all, she missed having someone to _talk_ to. So she smiled. It almost reached her eyes as she looked up at a man nearly a foot taller than her and teased, "Yes, actually. I expected you to be taller."

He laughed and _god_, it was a good sound. Laughter was rare in Elizabeth's world. She heard it, sometimes, for brief moments before she continued her crusade. But it was always so far away and directed at someone who wasn't her.

"I'm sorry I'm not a giant. I'll try to wear stilts next time."

To her surprise, she laughed. "It's impossible to tell where the line is between truth and tall tales, but I've seen enough to give serious credence to even the more outlandish stories."

"If you ask me about the rats, _I_ will seriously consider throwing you out the window."

Her eyes danced. "I knew a man who ate out of the trash, so I'm not going to judge."

Corvo rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face.

Elizabeth didn't know what kind of man Corvo was and she wasn't always the best judge of character. But she liked his smile and if he was half the man his reputation made him out to be, she wanted to get to know him better. "Is it true? You fought the coup with minimal bloodshed?"

His answer was important to her. That such a thing was possible made her jealous and bitter. There could be no mercy for the Comstocks on her list. Her hands weren't clean of the blood of bystanders either but if it was possible somewhere and somewhen for one person to do such a thing without hurting people unnecessarily, Elizabeth needed to know.

Corvo led her out onto a balcony, the air chilly enough that she drew closer to him for warmth. His hand slid over her back and he finally answered. "Yes. For the most part."

She looked up to read his face as he spoke. "Many of the guards and soldiers fighting against me were duped, or thought they were defending the Empire and Empress. They didn't deserve to die. So I knocked out the ones I could."

He wasn't lying and she felt irrationally angry over it and tried to take a step back. Corvo's hand kept her from going far, though there was little strength to it. She could escape easily, if she wanted to. But she didn't. "What if there hadn't been a choice? If the only way to save the Empire would have been through all those people?"

Corvo lowered his voice. "I don't know what that would have done to Emily. What kind of person she'd become with that for her example. But to save her, I would have killed every last person standing in my way."

The timber of his voice made Elizabeth shiver more than the cold did. She slid her hand up his chest, and then around to the back of his neck. "You're a better person than I am."

"I don't know you well enough to say." His breath caught as she played with the hair on his neck. He was a very controlled man, Elizabeth realized. That finalized her decision, excitement rising in her veins.

"I don't want to talk any more. At least, not right now." Elizabeth stood on her toes as she pulled Corvo's head down and kissed him. She had never chosen something for herself in her life before. So she chose this, she chose Corvo. She was almost done, so _close_ to being done with her crusade that she deserved a break, a reprieve. Deserved to enjoy _something_ in life before her crusade killed her.

His beard was softer than she'd expected. Her fingers curled into his hair as he pulled her closer. Elizabeth bunched Corvo's shirt into her fingers, opening her mouth into the kiss, groaning as heat spread across her skin.

Corvo's hands were eager, stroking circles in her back, down her sides and hips and rear. The last made her squeak into his mouth, and he broke the kiss, grinning softly and breathing heavily. "That was an interesting sound, Elizabeth."

For the first time since the tower, Elizabeth wasn't a fugitive or killer or whatever monster she'd become. She was just a woman, trying to give Corvo her most indignant look and feeling a kind of giddiness that made her dizzy.

Corvo pushed her back until she felt the railing against her ass, kissing her again, his hand sliding into her hair. Elizabeth's leg hooked around him as she half-dangled precariously over the edge of Dunwall Tower. Coming up for air, she tilted her head back, Corvo nuzzling her jaw and biting at her throat. Hips rolling against his, Elizabeth placed his other hand on her chest, feeling him as needy for her as she was for him.

"Here?" he asked, tugging lightly at the laces of her dress but not yet freeing her of the fabric that suddenly felt too constricting.

"Next time," she promised. "Bed first."

Chuckling, Corvo pulled away, taking her with him before she lost her balance and plummeted. He checked the hallway, then guided her down it. Elizabeth still felt light, her heart pounding as anticipation grew.

A small part of her told her she didn't deserve to enjoy this, that Comstock was out there, that her mission came first.

_Tomorrow,_ she told herself, coming to a stop in Corvo's door way and peering around his room, at the collection of a well traveled man. There was no ceremony here. It was comfortable, lived in. The line of bookshelves especially made her feel at ease.

She closed the door, locking it, before paying close attention to Corvo's face as she finished unlacing her dress and let it fall to the floor. She crooked her finger at him and Corvo crossed the distance in a heartbeat.

He wasn't rough with her, but he didn't treat her like some porcelain songbird either. Elizabeth memorized the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth, the way his tongue and fingers felt as he reminded her what it felt like to be alive. Elizabeth trembled, her fingers digging into Corvo's hair, tugging at him, her hips grinding into his face as he sent her over the edge into an oblivion she'd only read about.

The weight of him was comforting. Elizabeth stroked his face and stared into his eyes and committed that to memory too. And the sound he made, the low raspy groan when he sank into her and the feel of him inside her, she memorized that, too. _Lived _for it. Lived for the build up and the fire that spread through her veins, the skin of his back tearing under her nails, her name falling from Corvo's mouth.

After, as her breathing slowed, she felt like she was floating, a giggle escaping her more than once as her body came down from the high. She stroked Corvo's hair, his head rising and falling on her chest with every breath.

Studying the relaxed set to his face, demons temporarily banished, Elizabeth wondered which of Corvo's demons had been banished, too.

Corvo opened his eyes, peering up at her as he traced the contours of her breast with a finger. Elizabeth smiled, holding him closer to her, unclear who was cradling who and not particularly caring as long as there was no air between them.

She fell asleep like that and did not remember her dreams, waking up with a sort of pleasant ache throughout her body. Sitting up with a soft groan, she turned, watching Corvo as he slept. He was sprawled on his stomach, sheet tangled at his feet and leaving the rest of his brown skin exposed to the morning sun.

Elizabeth reached over, tracing one scar, and then another, first with her fingers, and then her lips. She had scars of her own, most of them inside and while those couldn't be soothed she wanted to try to sooth Corvo's. A salve on him that might help sooth her own soul.

Or at least that was the excuse she gave herself, rather than admit in the glare of morning to a baser need to simply taste him. Corvo stirred, and needing to delay the inevitable, Elizabeth rolled him over, kissing and stroking him awake as she lost herself again.

It was mid-morning by the time hunger of one sort overrode hunger of the other. Elizabeth sat on the bed, watching Corvo instruct someone to have breakfast sent up. She'd wrapped the sheet around herself, though let it drop once the door had closed. The way he looked at her when he returned was, well, something else for her to memorize, to tuck away in a safe in her memories. "I have to go. After we eat."

He looked at her. Through her. Like he somehow knew her or could see the blood staining her hands. How red they were. And yet he sat next to her, took her hand, his finger trailing over the stub of her left pinkie. "This man you're looking for."

"He's hurt people," she said, staring at their hands, at the tattoo on Corvo's. Her mind flashed to another city, another time, another man. Branded by himself, to remind himself of his crime. A different hand, letters instead of a rune, and yet, Elizabeth had questions.

"Who is he?"

Elizabeth looked away, staring at the floor and spoke the truth. "My father."


	2. Chapter 2

Corvo hadn't felt this insatiable since Jessamine, and it was probably progress that that thought was without guilt. Though he still felt a little guilty trying to find reasons for Elizabeth to stay a little longer. Breakfast at least, but then he'd had to ask who her target was, and her answer hung in the air for a heartbeat before he'd responded:

"Let me help."

Elizabeth's head snapped up. "What?"

"No one knows Dunwall the way I do," Corvo pointed out. He couldn't go into detail. Not about his spy network or his methods. But he could still help. "I can help you find him."

"He's mine." Elizabeth sat up straighter, holding his gaze with steel in her narrowed eyes. Elizabeth was resigned, face drawn and body tense and Corvo could see the anger in the set of her jaw.

"You're going to kill him."

"And if I said yes?"

Corvo thought about the question she'd posed last night. How far he'd go to save Emily. What he hadn't said was that he would have burned the Empire to the ground if it was necessary to save her. "I'll still help you find him."

"...Really?" Some of the anger faded, though Elizabeth remained tense. "Why?"

"Why do you want him dead?"

Elizabeth stood,folding her arms over her breasts and moving towards the window. He followed her with his eyes, admiring the way the sunlight haloed her and made her skin glow.

"I don't know how to explain any of it. I don't really want to, not… not yet. All I'm willing to say is that he's hurt people, and he's probably still doing so. He needs to face justice and the only way I'll feel justice is served is to watch him bleeding to death on the ground."

She'd folded in on herself, her shoulders hunched over, and she looked so small and frail. Corvo knew that was an illusion, but that even the strongest person had moments of weakness. He didn't know how that man had hurt her and he didn't want to try and guess. But he'd been there, been in that place of loss and despair where all he wanted was to make those responsible suffer. "We'll find him, and you'll make him bleed."

Turning and looking at him with a shadowed expression, Elizabeth squared her shoulders. "He's either going by Comstock or DeWitt. He's a crack shot, and brutal. I have a picture."

Corvo glanced to where her dress had been discarded. "I trust you have something more appropriate for this kind of work?"

Her smile was cold. Corvo wondered if he'd ever see her warmth again or if what he had seen had been some kind of hallucination. Even Elizabeth's voice had a chill to it as she replied, "I've got something."

"Meet me at the docks tonight. Around ten."

Elizabeth slipped past him, skin brushing his side before she picked up her dress. Corvo watched her pull it on, then helped with the laces of her corset. She turned around, looking up at him before placing her hand on his cheek, leaning up to kiss his jaw. "Thank you. I'll see you at ten."

She carefully placed the picture on the table as she left. Corvo watched her go, trying not to think about how chilly his chambers seemed in her absence. There were more important things to puzzle through. Like who to contact, and what bribes and threats he'd need to gather the information.

He approached the table and picked up the picture. "Damn. Easy to find...but the rest is going to be harder."

Dunwall's fashion often reminded Elizabeth of some strange cross between England's and Columbia's. But the boots were comfortable, and the black trousers paired with a dark blue vest over a black shirt made her look almost dashing. She tied her hair back, palmed a knife into a sheathe on her belt and checked the lockpicks in her gloves. Then, after one last check of herself she slung her pack over her shoulder and left her inn room for the last time.

Elizabeth didn't like the docks. She didn't like the smell, or the sight of the dead and dying whales. Whales were beautiful creatures and to see them like this broke her heart, no matter how strange they looked, with their tendrils in place of fins. But this was where Corvo said to meet him, so this was where she would go.

If she could find him at all amid the flickering lamp lights and the shadows of the night that obscured any number of terrors. But Elizabeth was a terror herself, and she'd long ago forgotten what it was like to be afraid.

Movement startled her, and she spun to her left, knife in one hand and pistol in the other. The man was down the street, and then he was in front of her with a face like death and-

"It's me."

She lowered her weapons at the sound of Corvo's voice, hissing. "Are you _trying_ to get shot?"

"You look good." Corvo pulled his mask off, and she relaxed a fraction, admiring his coat before shaking herself out of it to focus on the mission and his words, "I know where he is, but he's not going by Comstock _or_ DeWitt."

"Then who?" Unlike most of her prey, he'd known she'd come for him. He'd slipped between worlds, one of the few who had.

"Lutece."

Her grip on her weapons tightened, her vision going momentarily red. "Oh _of course_."

Corvo raised an eyebrow, but continued. "He's an Overseer, came in from Karnaca six months ago."

An Overseer. Elizabeth frowned, actually surprised at how surprised she was. "I believe that. He's a religious bigot on top of everything else, and …"

She trailed off, realizing she was blaspheming in front of a local. But Corvo shook his head. "Like calls to like. I understand."

"Does this change anything?"

"No."

"So where is he?"

"He's got a compound just outside the city." Corvo nodded to the North, and fixed his mask back into place. He offered her something.

It was like he was some kind of Reaper, a manifestation of death and justice. Elizabeth wanted to know more; she thought she could fall in love with him if she had the time and the chance to.

After this mission. After the next. She could come back. She could find out. She could rest. She'd have _earned_ her rest.

"How will we get there." She took what he offered: A simple mask to pull over her head. Which she did, as he led her to a boat.

"We'll take this a few miles up the river, then go over land."

She got into the boat, saying nothing. Neither did Corvo, the only sound the motor and water lapping on the side of the boat as they traveled. Elizabeth allowed herself to turn inward, to reflect. To prepare herself for what she had to do.

When she opened her eyes, the world was grey around the edges. The only color to be seen was the man sitting in front of her in the boat. Not Corvo. Booker.

_Her_ Booker. Asshole and friend and father and savior and the cause of all of her problems. The man she'd helped drown to break the cycle. So she was _seeing_ things now.

"You don't have to do this, y'know. You can end this here. Find some kind of peace."

Elizabeth said was nothing to say; Peace would not come for her until she'd finished her crusade. Then, and _only_ then, could she rest. So she locked eyes with him and stared at him until he faded, leaving her alone with Corvo.

Something to look forward to, she decided. If she lived. If she didn't lose her mind in the process. So close, so close, _so close_.

"We're almost there," Corvo whispered, and soon enough the little boat came to a stop at a rickety, abandoned dock. He secured the boat, then offered her his hand to help her up.

She stared at it for a moment, weighing whether she wanted to climb out herself or accept the help. Then she took his hand and allowed herself to be helped out of the boat.

The Overseers were fanatics, a mindset that Elizabeth was familiar with. The man who'd raised her had been one, after all, a fact that Elizabeth mused on as they approached the compound.

The men she'd killed were all variations on the same themes.

They took up a position on a hill overlooking the compound. Corvo put his hand on her shoulder, and she looked at him as he whispered. "No witnesses."

It would be like that, then. She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Hold onto me," Corvo said.

Elizabeth hesitated, before she wrapped her arm around him, an amused smile glinting in her eyes. "Not that I mind, but don't you think this can wait for after?"

Corvo just looked at her, expression hidden behind that terrible mask. And then it felt like they were falling sideways, shadows swirling around them. Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch, and had the vague sensation that something ancient was looking at her. But the feeling faded as she realized they were now perched outside a window on the third floor.

Her voice was a low hiss, "What the _fuck_?"

"I'll explain later." He nodded at the window. "Can you get that open?"

"Easily." Putting aside the six thousand questions that she wanted to ask, Elizabeth drew her knife, using it to jimmy the window open enough for them to lift it up the rest of the way. Stubbornly, Elizabeth made sure she went in first.

Inside, the only light came from a lamp at the end of a hallway. Crouching, Elizabeth tried to get her bearings. "Which way?"

"Left." Corvo went left, and Elizabeth followed, gripping her knife tightly as they came around a corner.

The central part of the building was open, each floor having a balcony that circled a central square on the first floor. Elizabeth counted six people; four on the first floor and two on the second. Corvo confirmed that count, holding up four fingers, and then two.

He drew a weapon, a blade that unfolded into a longer one. In a flash of darkness, he was gone.

Corvo dropped on top of a man on the second floor, his blade severing the man's brainstem. In a single smooth movement Corvo flipped back, spinning around and gutting the second before disappearing.

He reappeared on the first floor, and Elizabeth stared with both wonder and horror as he dispatched each man in turn. Smooth, efficient, trained.

God help anyone who threatened the Empress.

Elizabeth turned away as Corvo stayed on the first floor, investigating for anyone he might have missed. There was another corner that led away from the open area, and she used a mirror to peer around it, silently thanking Corvo for making this all go a lot quicker than it would have if she'd been alone.

There was a door, with a single guard. A woman, dark-haired and blue eyes, maybe the same age that Elizabeth had been that day everything had changed. Seven years ago? Four? Time all ran together and she couldn't remember what it felt like to just live.

Anger gripped her, irrational and hot. She pulled her mask down so the guard could see her face before she died, and darted forward, left hand closing over the woman's mouth, blood splattering Elizabeth's face as she opened up the guard's throat.

Quietly, carefully, she slid the twitching woman down to the ground, watching the panic and fear in her eyes as the light there faded.

And she felt so _sick_, but the only thing that mattered was ending Comstock.

Corvo knelt next to her, mask unreadable and yet she felt no judgement from him. Elizabeth could stay, she thought. There was something about Corvo, something that made him feel like a kindred soul. It might be nice to find out who she was, who she could become without her past weighing her down. Maybe when she came back.

"I'm ready," she whispered, and Corvo kicked the door open.

Elizabeth was moving, tearing holes in reality just in time for the bullet meant for Corvo to instead strike the shooter in the shoulder.

This one was more Booker than Comstock, but not really either of them. He had a mustache and the mutton chops that were so fashionable in Dunwall. People could change so much, and yet still be the same. Even drowning Booker hadn't erased every Comstock who'd hurt an Elizabeth and every Booker who'd done so as well.

There were, at least, some realities where Booker was a good man, who'd raised the good daughter that Elizabeth could never be. This man was not one of those.

He held his shoulder, staring at them with wide eyes as Corvo snapped his blade open and closed, watching, waiting. She couldn't read his face, but she could read his posture. He was waiting to know what crime this man had committed to turn her into this.

Elizabeth stepped forward, blood dripping from her knife, her smile painted red from the same source. "Do you know what happened to that girl? To your own daughter?"

"Anna-"

"You don't deserve to use that name." Elizabeth stopped, eyes flashing. "Do you want to know how she begged her father to come for her? How she died years later, penniless and alone and riddled with the _pox_?"

Comstock flinched, and Corvo tensed. But Elizabeth held up her hand. He was hers, he was _hers_ and she might actually enjoy this one.

The folding blade snapped closed once more before Elizabeth felt Corvo press the hilt of his blade into her hand. She blinked once, looking at it, then at him, then finally at Comstock as she unfolded it with a deft flick of her wrist. The weight and balance was _perfect_.

"You can't keep chasing us," Comstock said, blood welling up under and between his fingers. "No matter how many of us you kill, how many of you there are, there are infinite probabilities. This is _futile_."

"Just one more after you," Elizabeth promised. "And I'm done. Its over."

Comstock's eyes fell to her left hand. Not to the blade she held, but her missing pinkie. He did something that sent a chill down her spine. She almost didn't notice the warm blood that started to dribble from her nose

He laughed. "Wrong hand."

Elizabeth didn't give him time to say anything else. Not even scream.


End file.
